Midwives On Call: Stealing The Surgeon's Heart. Marion Lennox

nipple, drawing it to its delicious, tender length then pausing, holding her quivering mound in his loving hand, adoring her with his eyes.

      ‘I want to take you to bed…’ His low drawl was as erotic as his touch. ‘Since the moment I saw you, Harriet, it is all I have wanted to do.’

      She understood, because she’d felt it, too, more than she’d even wanted to admit at the time, more than she’d dared acknowledge, but that stinging, brutal awareness she had felt had been undeniable. That it was culminating in this was inevitable almost.

      He effortlessly scooped her up and carried her the short distance to the bedroom and she buried her face in his chest, tasting the salt of the ocean, revelling in the delicious scent of arousal. And Harriet knew she should have felt shy, should have felt naked and exposed as he laid her on the bed, but he imbued wanton confidence in her, the desire blazing in his eyes telling her she was doing OK. The pleasure was as much his as hers. Her needy hands tugged at his boxers, and she saw Ciro in full arousal. The sheer glorious naked strength of him gave her a shudder of nervous apprehension, and he sensed it.

      ‘I won’t hurt you, Harriet.’ Kneeling on the bed, he cupped the peach of her buttocks in his hand and, leaning over, kissed his way down the length of her writhing body. Achingly slowly he explored her with his tongue and at the scratch of his face on her stomach, the feel of his thighs parting hers, Harriet’s hands coiled in his jet hair. Her head thrashed on the pillow as he took her so close to the edge it was almost indecent, the fuse he had lit in the bathroom so damn close to detonation now that the knot of anxiety about accommodating him was replaced with sheer naked need, a need to have him inside her, to have him fill her. His name was a sob on her parted lips as she begged him to enter her, but even his skilful foreplay, her greedy anticipation of the moment didn’t come close to the power of him inside her, that first delicious stab the trigger, her whole body toppling, a physical chain reaction so severe there was nothing she could do except go with it—moving with him, her calves around his waist, the sheen of his skin against her, her fingers pushing into his taut buttocks, greedy, desperate lips tasting his flesh as he bucked inside her. A frenzied convulsion engulfed her, a hot searing flush rushing along her spinal column, his buttocks tightening in the same rigid tune she moved to as he swelled further within her, spilled inside her. She’d never cried before while making love, but it was the only thing she could do now. The amassing of emotion, the sheer and utter release, followed by the tranquil post-coital bliss, culminating in quiet, cleansing tears. And through it all Ciro held her.

      Held Harriet as if he’d never let her go.

       CHAPTER NINE

      COOGEE BEACH was arguably the best place in the world to get over a broken relationship or even to forge a new one!

      Restaurants designed for lovers were on every corner, subdued lighting and informal couches where you could feed each other on today’s early morning catches. Or you could just wander along the busy streets and stop at any one of the trendy cafés and watch the world go by. But as Harriet’s strength, along with her confidence, returned more and more, they strayed from their haven, taking endless beachside walks right up to Bondi, following the tracks, stopping along the way to marvel at the sandstone, the colours so rich, from saffron-yellow to burnt orange, that they looked as if they’d been painted for effect, poking sticks into tiny rock pools or just stopping a while, Ciro lying on his side, watching with a lazy smile as Harriet popped seaweed.

      ‘Your skin is like the sandstone!’ Harriet gave him a queer look and Ciro laughed. ‘I meant the many colours, not the texture. First it was pale, then pink, then angry red…’

      ‘Don’t remind me.’ Harriet winced, her lobster impression not quite a distant enough memory to joke about yet.

      ‘But now it is…’ His hand brushed the sand from her thigh, staring thoughtfully at the million freckles dusting her legs.

      ‘Freckly,’ Harriet said for him, just a touch uncomfortable under his scrutiny, wishing she could be as olive-skinned and as long-limbed as the Mediterranean beauties he was undoubtedly used to, still scarcely able to fathom that a man as stunning as Ciro, a man so used to delectable women, could really find her as beautiful as he regularly insisted that she was.

      ‘Are you nervous about going back to work tomorrow?’ His hand was still there, stroking the tiny blonde hairs upwards, causing tiny shivers of electricity at his mere touch. Harriet finally nodded.

      ‘I feel like I’ve been away for months, not just two weeks.’

      ‘A lot has happened in that time,’ Ciro said, and Harriet forgot the seaweed she was idly popping and stared out at the crystal-clear water, one part of her wishing it was this time tomorrow, that her first awkward day back was over and done with, while the other wished that they could just stay like this for ever.

      ‘What’s everyone going to think? I know you tried to hide it from me…’

      ‘Hide what?’ Ciro asked, but from the way his foot was scuffing the sand Harriet knew he’d guessed what she was about to say! ‘I read that newspaper, Ciro. The one you said hadn’t arrived. Well, Judith rang to discuss it with me and I found it in the recycle bin—read for myself how I was so devastated that I took an overdose after I found them in bed together.’

      ‘Judith rang you?’ Ciro’s annoyance was obvious.

      ‘I’m glad she did. Someone at the hospital must have leaked it and we were trying to work out who.’

      ‘Why do you think someone from the hospital spoke to the press? Surely it would be from Drew’s PR.’

      ‘I doubt it,’ Harriet scoffed. ‘Drew’s hell-bent on keeping his image clean.’

      ‘It was only two lines in the paper.’ Ciro shrugged. ‘And they only insinuated that you might have done that. Anyway, no one will have seen it.’

      ‘Oh, please!’ Harriet rolled her eyes. ‘As much as it galls me to admit it, Drew is finally famous! OK, he’s not an international celebrity, but here in Sydney he’s pretty hot property, which means that me ending up in hospital the night we broke up…’

      ‘The hospital you work in,’ Ciro pointed out. ‘And everyone there knows that you had appendicitis that night—you had an operation, for heaven’s sake. No one thinks for a moment that you took an overdose. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’

      ‘I guess,’ Harriet sighed. ‘That’s exactly what Judith said. Anyway, she didn’t just ring for that…’ A tiny proud smile wobbled on the edge of her lips. ‘There’s an ANUM position coming up.’

      ‘A what?’ Ciro frowned.

      ‘Associate Nurse Unit Manager,’ Harriet explained. ‘It’s probably where I should be by now, but I’ve never really been in one place long enough to apply for a promotion before.’

      ‘And are you going to?’

      Swivelling her eyes to him, she gave an incredulous smile. ‘Of course I’m going to!’ Harriet announced. ‘Why wouldn’t I? I may not get it, but I’m thrilled Judith’s even considering me.’

      ‘Well, good luck!’ It didn’t sound particularly heartfelt, but he gave her a wide smile. ‘You’re going to be fine tomorrow.’

      The frantic chewing on her bottom lip told Ciro she wasn’t entirely convinced.

      ‘What else is worrying you?’

      ‘Nothing,’ she answered quickly. Too quickly perhaps because Ciro’s hand was still now, the idle stroking halting.

      ‘Harriet?’

      She heard the question mark, the summons for the truth, and taking a deep breath she finally faced him.

      ‘Can we keep it quiet? About us, I mean?’

      ‘If